A Halloween Carol
by JenniferR.Song
Summary: On the Eve of Halloween, Voldemort decides to celebrate his impending victory by making sure he is well rested. However, that night, he is visited by four ghosts, warning him of his future. Will he continue on his path of destruction or be redeemed?
1. Halloween Eve

Well, at least I did remember to post this before midnight. Three more parts will follow in quick succession, but the fifth and last part won't be posted until tomorrow. I probably won't be responding to reviews until Sunday, since I have a Halloween event tomorrow that will take up a lot of my day and will have just enough time to post the last part. Also, only the story itself will be posted; no notes until the last part.

So, without further ado, here's the result of having a brain redirection from _In Plain Sight_ _to A Halloween Carol. _Hope it's worth it.

**Summary**: On the Eve of Halloween, Voldemort decides to celebrate his impending victory by making sure he is well rested. However, that night, he is visited by four ghosts, warning him of his future. Will he continue on his path of destruction or be redeemed? A parody of _Harry Potter_ with _A Christmas Carol_ twist. Canon pairings.

**Disclaimer**: (_Looks in bucket_) Don't suppose the rights to Harry Potter are in here? No? (_Looks up_) Better luck next year.

* * *

Part I: Halloween Eve

Lord Voldemort, once known to the world as Tom Marvolo Riddle (but you didn't hear it from me!), had decided to do something he rarely did, considering he was near immortal.

He decided to get a good nights' sleep.

After all, one couldn't appear to the press on the morning of November 1st looking like he had been run into the ground. No, tonight he would sleep well, for Peter Pettigrew had told him of the secret hiding place of the Potters. And they would not be expecting him. Soon, they would be dead, all three of them, and he would reign over the Half-Bloods and Mudbloods and the Muggle animals that had spawned them.

Making sure his custom-made bed was comfortable, he lay down and was soon fast asleep, Nagini curled up at the end of the bed and comforted with a Warming Charm to keep her body temperature steady.

It felt like it had only been a few minutes when he heard a clock somewhere strike midnight. He grunted and rolled over, only to be faced with a pair of gleaming glasses.

"Well, aren't you just ugly," she giggled.

Voldemort was shocked. He recognized the girl.

"Myrtle?"

She flew in the air, landing atop his spare robes dresser. "I see you still remember me, Tommy."

"_Don't_ call me that name!" he growled, grasping for his wand.

"Oh, _that_ won't help you," she said mildly, studying her translucent fingernails, then holding a hand up so Voldemort could make out the design of the wall through it. "I'm a ghost, see? Already dead."

She sniffled, but Voldemort wasn't impressed.

"Leave me alone."

"Why?" she pouted. "It's not like haunting toilets is more fun. 'Sides, I got a message for you."

"From who?"

"From whom."

"Huh?"

"Well, you see, it's not 'who,' it's 'whom.' You might want to think about that when you speak. Grammatical knowledge can be quite a forte in public speaking."

"Says the dead Ravenclaw," he retorted.

She wailed so loudly it was a wonder several of his Death Eaters didn't burst through the door. Voldemort winced, the sound cutting through his head. When she had finished, he was even crabbier than before.

"Now is a good time I wish I knew an exorcism spell," he muttered, his ears (or rather, the holes were they had been) still ringing. "Well, get on with it then."

She pouted again. "Fine. Your message is this." She cleared her throat and stated in a booming voice not her own, "TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE, YOU HAVE BUT THIS ONE NIGHT TO REDEEM YOURSELF FROM THE PATH YOU HAVE CHOSEN, LEST YOUR SOUL BE CONDEMNED TO ROT IN THE DEEPEST LEVELS OF HELL FOR ALL ETERNITY AS PAYMENT FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS!

"TONIGHT, YOU WILL BE VISITED BY THREE GHOSTS! HEED THEIR WARNINGS, WIZARD, FOR YOU SHALL NE'ER BE GIVEN ANOTHER CHANCE TO DO SO!"

After this proclamation, Myrtle snapped back to herself. She made a face.

"Blegh, let the Almighty take control for a second and it leaves a bad taste in your mouth."

"Again, how would you know?" snapped Voldemort. "Dead, remember?"

She glared and with another wail, disappeared through the door into the bathroom. He heard a clunk and a splash as she disappeared into the pips via the toilets.

"Stupid ghost," he muttered, yanking the covers over his head.

Well, at least he could get a Death Eater to clean it up tomorrow.

* * *

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	2. Ghost of Halloween Past

Part II: Ghost of Halloween Past

He had barely gotten back to sleep when he heard the clock chime. It was one in the morning. He wished he could AK that stupid clock so he could get some sleep and voiced this aloud.

"Myrtle was right, you really do have a nasty temper when you're woken up."

He jumped up as though electrocuted. Sitting in one of his custom made leather chairs was a girl reading a huge book. She looked about seventeen or so, with bushy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing Gryffindor house robes adorned with a Head Girl badge.

"Great, a _Gryffindor_," he muttered. As if it wasn't bad enough he was probably going to have _huge_ bags under his eyes in the morning, he had to be sent a _Gryffindor_.

"Who are you?"

"I suppose I could say 'Who are _you_?' but that would be counterproductive wouldn't it?" she drawled, tucking her book away in her bookbag. "So let's just handle the situation with grace, hm? I'm the Ghost of Halloween Past." She stood up, smoothing her robes. "And I'm here to show you your life up to this point. Hence, the past bit."

She held out her hand.

"Now, if you'll just take my hand, we'll get started. And leave the wand, you won't need it."

He eyed her hand and gripped his wand tighter. "But if you're a ghost, how could I touch you?"

She smiled, wiggling her fingers. "Just take it."

Against his better judgment, he put his wand on his dresser and took her surprisingly warm hand.

Instantly, he felt the jerk behind his navel that usually signaled a Portkey.

* * *

They landed outside an orphanage, right at the front gate. Peering up, Voldemort could see that it said "Wool's Orphanage." With a jerk, he realized that was the orphanage he had lived at for all of his childhood and most of his Hogwarts years.

It was decorated with only a few pumpkins with lit candles in them at the doors, the only sign besides the almost leafless trees that it was Halloween. Voldemort remembered that Mrs. Cole only lit the candles in the pumpkins when the children that had managed to scrap together a costume were going out trick-or-treating.

He followed the Gryffindor as she walked through the gate and the door as if it were nothing but air. It was rather odd, stepping through a solid.

When they entered the orphanage, it was to a rambunctious crowd of children.

"Welcome to Halloween of '36," she said, speaking calmly, yet being heard over the din. "You were just two months shy of your tenth birthday, correct?"

"Yes," he said hesitantly.

"Do you remember it?"

His eyes flickered around the room. "I had been planning to go as the Tin Man that year. _The_ _Wizard_ _of_ _Oz_ had just been released and we had crowded around Amy Sutton, since she could read the best of us and had bought the book when we pooled all our resources. Even I had been curious and put in a bit to buy the book."

He looked around some more. "There I am right there."

She looked across the room and saw a young Tom Riddle sitting on the steps leading to the second story. His handsome face was stony, and he wasn't wearing his costume. One of the women trying to herd the children into a straight line noticed him and hesitantly approached him.

"Tommy?" she asked. "What's wrong? Why aren't you in costume?"

"It's gone," he said simply. "Someone took it."

The woman sighed. "Well, what are you going to do?"

The boy stood. "Back to my room, I guess. I can't go out trick-or-treating wearing my orphanage clothes."

As he went up the stairs, he glanced down at the children. One of them smirked back before filing out with the others. Soon, it was empty but for the displaced ghost and wizard.

"That was Billy Stubbs," Voldemort said. "I found out after Halloween was over that he had had others cause a distraction so that he could sneak into my room and steal my costume. When I demanded to know where it was, he laughed and said he had turned it into the metal plant and pocketed the money from it."

Voldemort grinned evilly. "I gave him a nice Christmas present that year. He woke up to find his rabbit dangling from the rafters. Scared him so bad he never messed with me again. As a matter of fact, _no_b_ody_ in the orphanage messed with me after that day."

He glanced at the Ghost. Her face was blank, except for her raised eyebrow.

"Ready to move on?" she said evenly, holding out her hand.

Voldemort shrugged and took her hand again.

* * *

When they landed again, the scene was much more enjoyable. They had just so happened to land in the middle of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was quite humorous for the children to be running through Voldemort like he wasn't there. Here he was, the darkest wizard of all time, and children were running around, smiling, laughing and generally having a good time.

He looked up. Huge pumpkins were floating overhead and occasionally bats flittered across the ceiling. With a start, he realized he was standing behind himself seated at the Slytherin table.

"Hey, Riddle!"

Both Voldemort and Tom Riddle turned at the voice.

"Hello, Abraxas," said Riddle smoothly. "What can I do for you?"

Abraxas Malfoy smirked. "Rumors are going around that the Heir of Slytherin will attack for the first time tonight. What say you?"

Riddle pretended to ponder the question, then grinned back.

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Depends, I guess."

"On what?"

"Which poor innocent Mudblood do you think Slytherin would want wiped from his world most?"

The two teens glanced at the other tables. Then Malfoy pointed out one.

"That one."

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "As far as I know, the Weasleys are Purebloods. Why should I attack one? Granted, there _are_ enough of them."

"No, not the Weasley, but he _is_ courting a Muggleborn. Even Bloodtraitors should have their place in society, ensuring our survival. Pure blood is pure blood, after all. He should know better than that."

Riddle _hm_ed. "We'll see."

The Great Hall suddenly faded out, the students and holiday decorations disappearing.

"And what did we learn from that?" said the Ghost, who had placed herself at the Ravenclaw table.

Voldemort whipped around. "That when you tell a basilisk to kill someone, it is to kill them in the hallways, not petrify both of them when it catches them two seconds away from having a full out bout of sex. The boy was standing behind her, unlatching his girlfriend's bra, when they both gazed into the mirror. It was funny when the parents came and found their children almost naked together. Even funnier when they were unpetrified and realized they had been caught."

Even to this day, this thought made him laugh. The Ghost frowned.

"Do you have _any_ remorse about those two Halloweens?" she asked.

"Nope!"

She sighed. "Moving on, then."

And the two of them disappeared again.

* * *

When they reappeared, Voldemort was surprised to see they were still in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. And it was almost Halloween again, judging by the decorations.

"Oi, Evans!"

Voldemort winced. That tone could only mean one person…

"What?" snapped Lily Evans, snapping her book closed. It was a thick book on Charms that Voldemort remembered reading in Sixth Year when trying to find ways to live forever.

James Potter slid himself right next to her and drew her into a big hug. "Tomorrow's Halloween."

"Yeah, so?" she said, shoving his hands away.

"And tomorrow's also the Hogsmeade weekend," he hinted in an obvious way.

"For the millionth time, I am not going with you," she said, exasperated.

"Actually, Prongs, I think that was the two millionth time," said a cheerful voice.

Sirius Black plunked down on Evans's other side. Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew sat across from them.

"Well, it's not like she's going with Snivilleus, are you?" sneered Black, his handsome face twisted in disgust.

Evans was quiet.

"Ooh, for once she doesn't jump to defend him!" said Potter. Black laughed, sounding like a dog barking. "Well, isn't that a nice change!"

Something seemed to break in Evans's face. She glanced over her shoulder at the Slytherin table. Even at this distance, Voldemort saw her make brief eye contact with Severus Snape. He remembered his promise to Snape to spare the woman, his only request for his few years of loyal servitude.

"Fine, Potter, I'll go, if it'll make you leave me alone."

Potter and Black froze. "You – you said _yes_?" said Potter hesitantly.

Her eyes hardened as she turned her back on the only one who had truly understood her since she was a small girl.

"_Nothing_ would give me more pleasure."

Snape bolted from the Slytherin table, clutching his heavy Potions text to his chest.

The scene dissolved, leaving them in empty black space, lit only by the Ghost's ethereal glow.

"Ah, the perils of teenage youth," said the Ghost. "You are, of course, wondering why that particular scene was shown when the other two were of your Halloweens?"

He wasn't about to say that that was _exactly_ what he had been thinking.

"It's very simple: You intend on murdering at least one of those people tomorrow night and ruining the lives of the others. On a _Halloween_."

"That was five years ago, according to your timeline. The next day, you massacred a bunch of Muggles, including Lily Evans's parents. It was Potter, not Snape, who comforted her when she received the news. This was the final straw between Lily and Severus Snape, the latter of which joined your Death Eaters as soon as he could after that.

"Her older sister was granted control of the properties until Lily graduated from Hogwarts. Of course, being as she married the month after she graduated and left the Muggle World to fight against you and your Death Eaters, Petunia got everything. Made a nice dowry when she married that fat pig of a husband of hers, but I shall say no more on that subject. That will be for the other two Ghosts to show you."

She turned and started walking away, taking the light with her.

"Wait!" shouted Voldemort. "Where are you going?"

She didn't reply and soon the darkness consumed him.

* * *

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	3. Ghost of Halloween Present

Part III: Ghost of Halloween Present

He started awake, panting hard, his covers twisted around his snakelike body. It took him a few minutes, but eventually, his heart rate settled down to normal. Well, as normal as it could get.

The clock chimed again. It was two in the morning. Voldemort groaned. His minions would be very lucky if he didn't _Crucio_ the lot of them before he had his morning coffee.

There was a crash downstairs. Voldemort felt for his wand and was pleased to find it still lying on the dresser.

He crept down the stairs, amazed that no one else was up. In another room, he could hear a few Death Eaters snoring.

He slowly stepped into the kitchen, wand at the ready, and had to blink in surprise.

There, at his refrigerator, was a teenage boy with flaming red hair. His face was stuffed with sandwiches Narcissa Black Malfoy had made for the meeting, well, what was now last night. They had put the few leftovers in the fridge for later.

Voldemort was fuming. "Who are you?"

The boy straightened up, his mouth full. Now that he saw the boy clearly, he saw that he too was wearing Gryffindor robes, though only with a Prefect's Badge, but looked about the same age as the Ghost of Halloween Past. He swallowed about half the sandwich, slightly reducing his chipmunk like face.

"Wost o' o ween 'esant."

"Er, what?"

He swallowed the rest of the sandwich. "I said, 'Ghost of Halloween Present.' What are you, deaf?"

Voldemort stared at him. This pig was one of the ghosts?

"Mind if I take a few of these for the ride? Thanks."

And he grabbed the whole tray. The mustard too.

"Anyway," the Ghost said, biting into another (how did a ghost eat food anyway?), "I figure my job is to show you a few places that are preparing for Halloween. Magical, Muggle, I don't reckon it matters."

"Please tell me I don't have to touch your hand," said Voldemort, staring at the boy's food-laden hands.

The Ghost looked at him oddly. "'Course you don't have to hold my hand. I do have to tell you, though, that holding hands makes the landings easier. No telling what might happen otherwise."

"Anything but holding your hand," said Voldemort, disgusted.

The Ghost shrugged, freed one of his hands, and snapped his fingers.

* * *

They appeared in the living room of a very affluent household and one that Voldemort instantly recognized, despite his position flat on his back near the door.

"How's Draco doing?" asked Lucius Malfoy as a house-elf took his cloak, unknowingly stepping right over Voldemort and giving the Dark Lord a good view under his robes. With a disgusted grunt, Voldemort got to his feet.

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on the couch by the fire, an envelope in her lap. As Lucius sat down, he gave his wife a welcoming kiss on her cheek.

"He's doing fine. Still insists on sleeping with that stuffed dragon you gave him for his birthday."

As the house-elf put the coat up in the closet, Voldemort could have sworn it looked right at them with its huge green eyes before shaking its head.

"Dobby be seeing things," they heard him mutter before he popped away.

"Soon, Narcissa, our child will be living in a world free of the filth that has corrupted it for so many years. Tomorrow night."

"Lucius, do you know what tomorrow night is?"

"Halloween, of course. Though, after tomorrow night, it may be renamed accordingly."

Narcissa fingered the envelope. "I've heard from my sister," she said quietly.

"Bellatrix? What has she to say now? More songs of worship for the Dark Lord?"

Narcissa shook her head. "No. Andromeda."

Lucius's face dropped. "The one your mother disinherited for marrying a Mudblood, correct?"

Narcissa nodded. "She sent me a picture of her daughter. She still sends me cards for holidays and such."

She showed the picture to Lucius. The child was about six or seven years old. Her hair was long and black. As she waved, it because curly and pink, copying the exact color of the Muggle princess gown she was wearing.

"A Metamorphmagus?" questioned Lucius. "Rare, those."

"Yes, very," agreed Narcissa. She sighed. "Lucius–"

"No, Narcissa," he said, cutting her off. "One child is enough."

She stared longingly at the picture of the girl. "But if it's a girl–"

"No," he repeated. "I cannot run the risk of having two sons. The lines of inheritance are quite clear on that. One son to carry on the name, and that is all."

And he left, leaving Narcissa alone with the crackling fire. Finally, the woman stood and, taking one last, long look at the picture, threw it and the envelope in the fire to burn.

"Wonder if they've got leftovers too," muttered the Ghost as soon as Narcissa had left the room.

"Aren't you supposed to be warning me of my impending doom?" said Voldemort sarcastically.

The Ghost scratched his head. "Yeah, I do have to do that, don't I?" He frowned. "Fine, next place then."

He snapped his fingers.

* * *

This time, Voldemort was a little luckier, considering his last landing place. When he appeared, it was right in the middle of a toddler's tantrum. Food was everywhere, including where he landed, so that he ended up flat on his back again from slipping. How was it that he could slip on food when he wasn't even real to them?

"Harry!" said an exasperated James Potter, who was trying to feed his son.

"No!" the boy declared, his bottom lip stuck out as he pouted.

_This_ was the child that would defeat him? A baby that refused to eat his carrots?

"C'mon, Harry, if you eat these, maybe you won't need glasses like Daddy, hm?"

All that earned the man was another well placed throw to his face, splattering his glasses with orange mush.

"James?"

Lily Evans Potter walked in and had to laugh. Her poor husband had managed to take most of the damage from the attempted meal. But at least he was grinning.

"Hey, Lils, you missed that! Harry's got an arm on him! Maybe he'll take after his old man and play Quidditch, eh?"

"Quidditch!" repeated Harry excitedly.

Lily frowned. "You know I'm never going to forgive you for teaching him how to say Quidditch before he said Ma-ma, right?"

"Hey, blame Moony! He's the one that gave Harry a children's picture book on the players!"

Lily frowned. "Where _is_ Remus?"

James shrugged. "Probably getting ready. Tomorrow is the full moon, you know."

Lily sighed. "And on Halloween too. Poor Remus. He was telling me how he hates when Halloween and the full moon line up. Makes all those Muggle stories seem more realistic to him."

"Unca Moo-ey!" shouted Harry. "Unca Moo-ey go _awooooo_!"

"James, how is that our son can do an exact imitation of a werewolf's call?"

James had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Well, he asked what sounds his uncles made. I told him Unca Pa-foo goes _woof_-_woof_, Unca Wormy goes _squeak_-_squeak_, and Unca Moo-ey goes_ awooooo_!"

Lily shook her head. "And what sound does Papa Prongs make?"

James grinned cheekily. "Sounds not meant for his little ears."

As they laughed, the Potters dissolved into nothing. The Ghost was leaning against the bare counter, the kitchen now sparkling, enjoying a jar of carrot baby food with a spoon.

"Carrots are good, you know," he said. "Peas are better, though."

"Ugh, just take me to the last place already," muttered Voldemort.

The Ghost shrugged and tossed the jar into the air, where it dissolved into nothing.

"Have it your way. Oh, a burger _would_ be nice about right now…"

* * *

When Voldemort landed, he was surprised to see people walking upside down. Wait, then why were they walking on the floor? He looked down and realized that it was _he_ who was standing upside down, his feet anchored to the ceiling.

"Wait, you might want to–"

Too late. Voldemort had already withdrawn one foot and promptly crashed as gravity took over, landing headfirst on the carpet.

"–flip over when you do that," finished the Ghost lamely.

Fortuitously for Voldemort, being immortal meant that if one landed on one's head and broke one's neck, it wasn't necessarily a fatal blow. With a sigh, the Ghost moved Voldemort's head back in line with his spinal column and a minute later, Voldemort sat up, his eyes crossed.

"Anyone get the name of that floor?" he muttered, popping his neck as it finished "healing." "_Ow_."

"Yeah, you're telling me," said the Ghost, rubbing the back of his own neck. "That hurt just _watching_ it."

"So, what are we doing here?" said Voldemort lazily, still rolling the kinks out.

"You tell me," said the Ghost, wincing at the various cracks. "I'm gonna go find the fridge."

"How can you eat?" said Voldemort exasperatedly. "You're a ghost!"

The Ghost shrugged. "Beats me."

And he left Voldemort standing there. From what Voldemort could see, he was in a perfectly normal, perfectly _Muggle_ household. There were photos on the mantle of what looked like a pink beach ball, though further inspection showed the ball to have a head, two arms, and two legs.

At that moment, the front door opened and four people walked in. Well, one walked in, two waddled in, and the last and smallest limped in. With a start, Voldemort recognized the child as none other than Harry James Potter. He wondered why he had failed to kill the child and why he lived with this family instead of his parents. The fat child was grinning at the thinner one.

"I have just about had it with your freakishness!" spat the large man all over the child.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon!" pleaded the child. Uncle? "I just thought the teacher would look nicer if she had different colored hair! And it just went, boom, white to blue!"

Ah, accidental magic, then. The boy had simply wished his teacher's hair to be a different color.

"Go to your cupboard!" spat the man. "No meals for a week!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said the child meekly, scampering away. From his position, Voldemort could see the child unlock, then crawl into a cupboard under the stairs. His entertainment lost, the fat boy waddled off to his own room.

Cupboard under the stairs? Even _he_ had had a bed at the orphanage. What in the name of Merlin was going on here?

"I swear, Petunia," said the fat man, Vernon, as he accepted a large glass of wine from his skinny wife, "your nephew will one day push over that line and we'll have to resort to beating _it_ out of him."

Nephew? Petunia? Ah, this must be Lily Evans's sister, then.

"Vernon, you know what will happen if we start doing that. That – that old man has things set up here. If the boy is seriously hurt, they'll alert him and the last thing we need it him showing up at an inopportune time."

The large man grunted. "Well, if your sister and brother-in-law hadn't gotten themselves killed, we wouldn't have been saddled with him in the first place!"

Voldemort felt a small stirring. So he had killed James and Lily Potter, but failed to kill their son. Come to think of it, why _had_ he killed the Mudblood? Hadn't that been Snape's request to bring her to him alive?

He shrugged as the Ghost reentered the room and froze it.

"Oh, and here I thought it would only be the Halloweens of your present day," he said, staring at Vernon and Petunia, the former frozen while chugging down his wine. "Never thought it would be _this_ Halloween."

"What happened on this Halloween?"

"Well, apparently Harry did some accidental magic. He had been thinking about the candy he might get when Halloween came round in about a week and got distracted when the teacher called on him. Turned the teacher's hair cotton candy blue. But because he's stuck in his cupboard all that time, by the time he gets out, it's the day after. His cousin, the fat whale of a boy you saw, lords it over him that his parents got him a couple of huge bags of candy and Harry was not allowed one piece. They don't celebrate Halloween, you see, it being so closely linked in their minds with magic. Funny, how according to my girlfriend, it actually started out as a religious holiday."

The Ghost shrugged and popped a crisp in his mouth.

"Your girlfriend wouldn't happen to be also known as the Ghost of Halloween Past, would she?"

The Ghost shrugged. "Well, why not?"

"She seems a little…nerdy."

The Ghost laughed. "Well, she's a Muggleborn. So she was obsessed when she learned about magic."

Voldemort grimaced. "I need some soap and warm water."

"Oh, relax, it's not like if she holds your hand long enough your blood turns brown. Besides, aren't you a half-blood to begin with?"

Voldemort was steaming. "Why you–"

The Ghost shrugged again. "I wouldn't if I were you. I'm a pureblood, if it makes you feel better, but the Ghost of Halloween Future is a half-blood and he doesn't take too well to insults."

He brushed imaginary crumbs off of his robes. "So, my part here is done. Did you learn anything?"

"Somehow Harry here survived, but his parents didn't. And Bellatrix will love to know she has a little half-blood niece to practice her spells on," Voldemort reeled off.

The Ghost frowned. "Not really what I was aiming for. I'll leave you in the care of the last Ghost."

And with a snap of his fingers, Voldemort was again plunged into complete and utter darkness.

* * *

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	4. Ghost of Halloween Future

Part IV: Ghost of Halloween Future

He cautiously opened one eye. He was back in his own bed. He sighed in relief.

The clock outside chimed three times. Really, this was getting annoying.

Suddenly the room grew very, very cold. He could see his breath floating in his face. On the window, ice formed and grew thick over the panes, almost like there was a Dementor coming.

From a dark corner, a figure walked out, seemly conjured from nothing. He was clad in robes of deepest black, lined with ruby threads throughout and a Gryffindor patch on his breast, his face covered with a hood. The only part of his face visible was his bright green eyes, the startling color of the Killing Curse. He paused at the foot of the bed. One alabaster white hand held a tall wooden staff adorned with complicated runes.

"I suppose you want me to come with you, then?"

The figure didn't say a word, but simply held out his hand. It was pale and bloodless. Voldemort sighed.

"Might as well get this over with then."

And he took the freezing cold hand.

* * *

When they reappeared, it was to a graveyard. Leaves fell from tree overhead onto the gravestones. Voldemort, curious, peeked at a few. They contained wizarding names. So, he was in a magical graveyard then.

A creak grabbed his attention. He looked around and saw a young man coming in through what appeared to be a kissing gate. He had black hair and was rather lanky. Though young, he moved as though he were older than his years. As he drew closer, Voldemort was startled to see that the young man was none other than Harry Potter. Up close, he could see a faint scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. Though he looked like a carbon copy of James Potter, his eyes were the same color as his mother's, bright emerald green.

Seized by a sudden suspicion, he turned to the Ghost. But the Ghost made no movement, only staring at the scene with his luminous eyes.

Harry walked by the two, stopping when he reached a grave plot.

"Hello, Mum, Dad," said Harry. "Wow, has it really been thirty years since you died? It sure doesn't seem that long."

Harry conjured a chair in front of his parents, so he was facing their gravestone.

"James is just like you, Dad, always getting into trouble. I hate to think what'll be like when he goes to Hogwarts." He looked at a memorial. "Sirius, for you, it's only been sixteen years, but it feels like a lot longer to me. You would be proud of James, too, he has your name as his middle name."

The young man swallowed and continued.

"Mum, Lily's only three, but she's so sweet. I imagine she's just like you were when you were little. She's made friends with everyone she meets. No such thing as a stranger with her.

"And of course, there's Albus Severus."

Voldemort started. Albus Severus? Why would Harry name his children after Dumbledore and Snape?

"He looks just like me. Well, minus the scars and unhappy childhood." He chuckled, his eyes flickering to another grave. "I bet Professor Snape rolled over in his grave when I named him that. But I had to. He protected me after you died. _He_ died protecting me, and…I felt I owed him at least that much.

"Remus, Tonks, Teddy is growing up so fast. He'll turn fourteen on his next birthday. His favorite color is turquoise, keeps his hair that color almost all the time. He's taking Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy for his Hogwarts electives. Going to be just like you, Remus, he loves magical creatures. He didn't inherit the werewolf gene, so there's no problem with that."

Harry choked. "I am so sorry you all died because of me. If it wasn't for that stupid Prophecy, Voldemort wouldn't have come after us that night. If it wasn't for that vision of you getting tortured, I wouldn't have dashed off to the Ministry like that and gotten you killed, Sirius. And if it wasn't for me, Remus, Tonks, you would've seen your child grow up instead of dying at the Battle of Hogwarts when Teddy was barely a few months old. But I killed him, for you, for everyone he ever hurt. I killed Voldemort."

"KILLED ME?" roared Voldemort. But Harry didn't move, continuing to talk to his deceased relatives. "_How could he kill me_? I've got my Horcruxes! I am _immortal_!"

The Ghost said nothing.

"I've got to go now, I promised the kids I'd take them trick-or-treating. I never got to do that as a kid, so I get to go along. Lily's going as a princess, James decided to go as a pirate, and, get this, Albus wanted my old school robes so he could go as _me_! Course, I had to drag out all of my old stuff and find a Hogwarts robe that wasn't turned to mothballs. I finally found one, one of my first-year robes. It was so _small_. But he's determined to wear it, even at age 5.

"Rose and Hugo are coming too. Ron wanted to come, but Hermione said no, he'd eat all their candy before they got back."

He touched the gravestone and, with a twirl of his wand, conjured multiple arrangements of differently colored flowers on the various graves.

"See you next year."

He walked away, hugging his cloak to himself to keep himself warm in the cool October air.

Voldemort cautiously stepped forward to the graves. The oldest stones were those of the Potters.

**JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER**  
**BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960**  
**DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981  
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.**

Strange that that would be on their gravestones, mused Voldemort, considering it sounded like one of his mantras.

On Lily's side was another, separate gravestone that was almost touching hers.

**SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE  
BORN 5 JANUARY 1960  
DIED 2 MAY 1998  
Slytherin Soul, Gryffindor Heart**

So that had been that date of his demise. And he wasn't talking about Snape.

He moved on.

Next to James Potter was a simple memorial with Sirius Black's name, date of birth and death upon it. It was the kind of memorial one puts down when there was no body to bury.

On Black's other side was another pair of graves.

**REMUS LUPIN NYMPHADORA TONKS-LUPIN  
BORN 10 MARCH 1960 BORN 13 APRIL 1973  
DIED 2 MAY 1998 DIED 2 MAY 1998  
****They made a world in which their  
son could live a happier life.**

Odd words to choose. It wasn't a quote he knew, but it just seemed to fit the tombstone.

He turned to the Ghost.

"All right, what happened to my body, then?"

The Ghost stretched out a hand and pointed. Voldemort glanced in the general direction.

"What?"

The Ghost said nothing, but continued pointing. Exasperated, Voldemort began walking in that direction, winding around the gravestones. As he did, he noticed that everything was gradually becoming darker, the gravestones dissolving away except for flickers of red-orange light ahead. As he drew closer, he realized the light was actually contained fire on wands held by people. He tried to push through the crowd, but soon realized that being invisible also meant being intangible and simply walked through the people to the front.

On a table was himself. Or, rather, his body. It looked the same as it did right now, though still and silent. A simple black robe was all that adorned his body. Beside him, loosely held in his right hand, was his yew wand.

A younger than the gravestone scene Harry Potter came first with his wand. Chanting a spell, he covered the body with a liquid that smelled quite nasty. He then said another spell and fire erupted from his wand and caught the body on fire.

The witches and wizards congregated there simultaneously raised their wands high and released the contained spells, causing the fire to shoot up into the sky and create brilliant flashes of light.

He watched in fascination as his body burned itself beyond recognition, then turned to ash, which was scattered in the wind. His wand too was burned into ash. There wouldn't be any chance of resurrection.

He shivered. So this was the end result of his life, to be beaten by a mere child once, then beaten again when that child grew up. Was it really worth it all, when it was obvious that his efforts to become immortal were all in vain?

"Take me away," Voldemort said to the Ghost. "I can't stand this anymore. Take me back to my bed now!"

As he spoke, his voice became louder, but it didn't affect the Ghost, who just stared at him, the green eyes burrowing deep into his maimed soul. He didn't notice, but the people standing around his burning body disappeared, leaving only the funeral pyre.

"Please," whispered Voldemort. "No more. No more, please."

And with that, the greatest dark wizard of the century broke down in tears.

The Ghost said nothing, but raised his staff and pounded it once on the ground.

The flames that had been centered on his dead body on the table now came alive. They twisted into large snakes, hissing and undulating. To Voldemort's horror, he could hear them hissing "_Burn_" repeatedly in Parseltongue. Like Fiendfyre, they began circling him, each time getting closer and closer. He felt his robes burst into flame and soon his entire body was on fire as they made inevitable contact.

He screamed even as he heard the Ghost laugh.

* * *

OK, if you've gotten this far, you're dying to see the last chapter. Tune in tomorrow! In the meantime, let me know!


	5. Halloween Epilogue

Part V: Halloween/Epilogue

He screamed, high, long and tortured. Finally, the door banged open and several Death Eaters stood at the doorway, wands at the ready.

"My Lord, are you all right?" whispered Bellatrix Lestrange.

Voldemort was panting and shaking. Sweat covered his entire body. He quickly checked himself and found that there were no burns, he was still clothed, and his wand was safely in his hand.

"I am fine," he gasped out.

"But – my Lord–"

"Out! All of you!"

Several spells aimed at their feet proved more than a match for their brains, and they quickly darted out of the room.

Voldemort put his head in his hands, discreetly checking the time. It was nearly six in the morning. The sun was rising, casting a deceptively chilly sunshine over the room.

He got up and stumbled to the bathroom. At his foot of his bed, Nagini stirred a little, which was more than she had done when the Ghosts were in the house.

He shivered. That last ghost...he had been so creepy. And coming from a man who looked like a snake, that was downright disturbing.

He splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror.

He fainted dead away when, reflected back at him, were the luminous eyes of the Ghost of Halloween Future.

* * *

"And that is why it never pays to be the most evil man on the face of the planet," finished the young woman. The child she was talking to had a thoughtful look on his face. Beside him, his little sister was already fast asleep.

"What happened to Voldemort?"

She smiled, pushing her red hair out of her face. "He never attacked. Instead, he collected back his Horcruxes and destroyed each and every one of them. He then went to the Ministry and turned himself in. He died a few years ago in Azkaban, right next to quite a few of his biggest supporters."

"Oh," said the child. "Did he ever feel sorry for what he had done?"

"Yes," she said. "He spent the last years of his life fighting the Dementors, determined to get every drop of punishment he could from them. In the end, it only took him seven years to die, he was so resistant."

He stared at her in wonder.

"Now, go to sleep. You start Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Aw, Mum!" he whined quietly, not wanting to wake his sister.

"No, you wanted to hear this story before you left and I did so." She scooped up the girl. "See you in the morning."

He sighed. "Night, Mum."

"Good night, Harry."

She carried the child to her own bed and tucked her in before going to bed herself. Her husband was already in bed and reacted when she laid down.

"Hm? Lily?"

"Yes, James?"

"I take it he wanted to hear the story again?"

"Yes. And, of course, Jenny had to hear it too. She went to sleep though, before, the scary parts." She snuggled in close. "Will Sirius and Remus be there tomorrow?"

James chuckled. "Of course, they want to see Harry off. They are his godfather and god-wolf, after all."

"When is Elizabeth due?"

"With any luck, little Jack will be here by October."

"What about Sarah?"

James sighed. "Sirius wants to be a daddy so much. If it's a boy, Sirius wants to call him Regulus, Reggie for short. Dunno if they have a girl name yet."

There was silence.

"James?"

"Hm?"

"Do you really think that happened? Voldemort getting spooked by those ghosts into admitting his guilt and turning himself in?"

"He swore it till his dying day, Sweetheart. Maybe by then he had gone so crazy, his subconscious acted desperately to make things right. Or maybe, deep down inside him, there was still some of Tom Riddle left to make him feel remorse."

"Maybe," she murmured before falling asleep.

James stared out the window at the star-filled sky. No moon to block the view tonight.

He went to sleep as well, grateful for their own second chance.

_FINE_

* * *

So, did it live up to your expectations? Did I throw in a real doozy at the end? Let me know! Review!

And a Happy Halloween to all!

-MM


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